


Fist Fight

by SapphireInTheSky



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Action, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 18:25:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6089983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphireInTheSky/pseuds/SapphireInTheSky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fair fight is paramount among men of honour....unless those men get bored and a bet needs settling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fist Fight

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired to write this section thanks to the old, classic western: Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Perhaps you are too young to have seen it or simply not into westerns, but I must fully credit this story to a specific scene in that movie -it just so happened to fit The Musketeers really well!
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

 

“Fists or swords?” Porthos asked, glaring across the courtyard at the opposition.

“He did not specify” Athos replied, casually.

“Well, let’s hope it’s swords” d’Artagnan mumbled.

Athos raised an eyebrow while Porthos and Aramis winced in unison. They knew better than to antagonize ‘the surly one.’

“You think me poor with my fists?” Athos blinked, stretching his fingers in his gloves.

“I never said that” d’Artagnan denied, his manner on the defensive.

“You wuz thinkin it” Porthos interrupted, cuffing the lad.

“You should know by now that our fearsome leader has many talents” Aramis noted, a knowing grin perched on his lips.

“I never said-” d’Artagnan cried, thoughts spiraling out of control. _How had he provoked this argument?_

“No matter. It will be over soon enough” Athos motioned, stretching his torso from side to side and twirling his sword arm.

“Don’t get too confident, ‘Thos, Leblanc is a quick one” Porthos cautioned, eyeing up the large brawler of a man.

He was mean enough to look at, never mind the fighting. Already a seasoned brawler, packed with muscle and thrice the venom, Leblanc was the embodiment of brawns.

Porthos resisted a wince. _Athos would not fare well if Leblanc chose fists. Alas, Athos being ever the gentleman had allowed his adversary the method by which they could settle their ‘dispute.’_

Rolling his eyes, he sighed. _His brother’s polite, haughty nature would bite him back one day…hopefully, not today._

“You doubt me?” Athos cut in, eyeing his large brother up. _He had expected some teasing from d’Artagnan or at the very lest some minor doubts from Aramis….but Porthos never questioned his ability. Never._

“Nah, just get it over with quick” Porthos advised, fixing his eyes onto Athos.

“-And try not to ruin those stitches I gave you” Aramis interjected, motioning towards Athos’ newly healed shoulder.

“You need’nt mother me. I am perfectly capable of executing offensive manoeuvres” Athos comforted, delivering a calm and collected stare to the three weary gazes.

“Wha’ about defensive manoeuvres?” Porthos grumbled.

“Won’t take that long” Athos noted, eyeing the pacing imbecile in a calculated manner.

Content to stay silent -and avoid further admonishments from his brothers, d’Artagnan set his focus on his task -summing all the bets.

_The wager didn’t look good for Athos…then again, if he won, the payout would be excellent._ D’Artagnan sighed wearily but kept his mouth shut.

“Right! Let’s get this started, shall we?” Leblanc suddenly roared in a gleeful tone, marching towards the center of the court, arms swinging and pumping in anticipation.

Athos shared a steady gaze with his brothers, then, headed over to meet his opponent, fully aware of the nervous energy of his brothers following from behind.

“I’m gonna grind ya to dust” Leblanc threatened, welcomingly; spitting a glob of saliva to the hay strewn dirt.

“Unrealistic…but a goal none the less” Athos replied, charmingly.

Eager men, both musketeer and passer-by’s began to crowd around the ensuing fight, their chain linked arms creating a circular barrier of sorts.

There was no going back now.

Leblanc began to circle within the ring of men, Athos matching his step, pace for pace -his cool stare never wavering from that of his opponents menacing glares.

_His rage would offset him. Never should a fighter allow his emotions to follow him into combat,_ Athos pondered thoughtfully.

“Ya gonna take a swing, pansy?” Leblanc jeered, fists flexing at the offer.

“So you have chosen physical combat?” Athos accepted, still seeming nonchalant about the whole affair.

There was a distant groan in the background. _No doubt Porthos had heard Leblanc’s method of fists,_ Athos smiled.

“I ain’t gonna tell ya twice, lubberwort, take a swing at me or I’ll beat ya down” Leblanc commanded.

“Is that not the point of this exercise?” Athos taunted, a fake smile to his lips.

Unable to keep his temper in check any longer, Leblanc dived for Athos; his large muscular arms swiping for purchase on his body -or head- or whatever they could sink their nails into.

But Athos was swift, as a swordsman is supposed to be. And so, he easily side stepped the foolish attempt.

“Do you not think it wise to outline the rules before we engage?” Athos continued, talking as if there was not a 300lb rage monster stalking his every move.

“Rules!?” Leblanc spat incredulously, his eyes bulging almost as much as the veins on his thick neck.

“In a fist fight, there are no rules!” Leblanc bellowed, his open stance willing Athos to come at him.

The words had barely left Leblanc’s lips, before Athos launched a swift kick between the opponents’ legs, dropping him to his knees.

“Alright, well if there are no rules, let’s get this fight started, shall we?” Athos concluded with a smirk, satisfied by the pained mewls floating up from the floor.

“Could somebody call 1,2,3?” Athos jested, clenching a gloved fist.

Immediately, his three reliable brothers called out the numbers. Obediently, Athos followed them out with a heavy right fist to Leblanc’s jaw.

The ‘monster’ fell flat upon his face -not having even delivered a single blow.

Shaking his sore knuckles out, Athos strolled back to the edge of the ring, ignoring the moans and groans of the men who had lost the wager.

Yet, despite the negativity, there were still three amused, twinkling stares shining out among the crowd.

Athos greeted them warmly, just as he had when he had left. He was acting as if nothing had happened. It was all the more infuriating to the losers.

“Nice one” Porthos grumbled, heartily -landing a friendly slap to Athos’ back.

“Knew you could do it…” d’Artagnan smirked, albeit somewhat sheepishly.

Athos gave his brother a half-lidded stare for the tasteful comment but otherwise continued to stroll forwards, nodding to Aramis’ congratulatory smile as he passed.

“What’s going on out here?” Treville’s indignant voice suddenly called from the balcony.

“Oh nothing, just settling scores is all” Aramis offered, coolly.

“See that you settle your scores in a more dignified manner” Treville reprimanded, eyeing the group of men huddled around one fallen man at the end of the court with suspicion.

“As you wish” Aramis appeased, snatching a bottle of wine from atop a barrel and following his brother’s lead to an unoccupied table.

“Didn’t think you had it in ya” Porthos confessed, snatching a full cup and downing it instantly.

“Well, as you can see, I have proven you all wrong. No thanks to your confidence” Athos noted, good naturedly.

“You learn something new every day” Aramis smiled, patting d’Artagnan on the shoulder as the boy buried his face in a cup.

“Next time we ‘ave a lil’ …indiscretion… we can count on you ta settle it, eh?” Porthos chuckled, though his ideal was quite serious.

“ _Hardly_ …” Athos murmured, ‘sipping’ from his cup generously.

“-There won’t be a next time” Treville interrupted, forcing down a smile as the four men whipped around to spot him hanging over their heads, startled looks half masked on their faces.

“Of course, Sir” Aramis filled in, bowing his head obediently.

Treville rolled his eyes. _Of course there would be a next time. With these four on the prowl, chaos was inevitable._

“See that you avoid Leblanc for the next while” Treville hinted, sweeping past their open stares to dutifully attend the mob of idle men -and subsequently clean up their mess.

“Yes Sir” all four men replied.

As soon as Treville was out of ear shot, Athos slid to his feet -delicately swiping the half laden bottle into his hands “-Next time, d’Artagnan will settle it” Athos scheduled mischievously.

Two smiles and slightly unsure frown met the fearsome leader’s conclusion. Regardless of their acceptance, Athos meandered away, heading who knows where with his prize of drink.

Though many things were uncertain in a world where Athos reined supreme, there was one thing now settled in stone…

‘Next time’ would be an entertaining spectacle indeed…

 

 

 

**Did it end as you expected? Please leave a review and let me know what you thought of it! Thanks!**


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